


The Aftermath

by crazyinfj



Series: Febuwhump 2021 [24]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Canonical Character Death, Clint Barton & Natasha Romanov Friendship, Clint Barton Gets a Hug, Clint Barton Has Issues, Clint Barton Needs a Hug, Clint Barton-centric, Clint is competent y’all, Gen, Light Angst, Natasha Romanov Is Not A Robot, Post-Avengers (2012), Protective Natasha Romanov, Unhealthy therapy session
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-26
Updated: 2021-02-26
Packaged: 2021-03-13 05:16:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,364
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29646339
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crazyinfj/pseuds/crazyinfj
Summary: After being a puppet to Loki, Clint faces his fellow agents. For the first time since he first joined SHIELD, he feels utterly alone and misunderstood.Febuwhump Day #26 Prompt: RecoveryThis isn’t so much recovery as it is Clint Barton gets the hug he deserves
Relationships: Clint Barton & Natasha Romanov, Clint Barton & Phil Coulson
Series: Febuwhump 2021 [24]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2135274
Comments: 2
Kudos: 14





	The Aftermath

**Author's Note:**

> I was watching the Avengers movie with my dad and realized that Clint, when he came back, would have a lot of issues. Especially with fellow agents who saw him rogue, so in turn, I made this. It’s short and probably not so good, but eh, maybe I’ll expand on it later.

The walls haunt him. They scream in his ears, reminding him that it’s wrong. It’s all so wrong, and Clint _knows_ this, but he can’t change it.

One step at a time. 

The walls are getting louder. The sounds come from all directions, and it feels like he’s been surrounded by his friend’s excitement, his memory. 

_“The Initiative is so much bigger than you Barton.”_

_“Why am I on it then?”_

_“Because you’re the eyes. You see things others don’t. That’s a skill these guys are going to need.”_

Phil had been the greatest supporter of the Avengers Initiative. He, who had taken on Natasha and Clint, the hardest, most guarded agents Nick had, was their leader in so many ways. 

And he hadn’t even gotten to see it happen. 

He had died knowing Clint was under the influence of a weapon with uncharted power. He died with the knowledge that Clint’s greatest fear was coming true. 

“Stand down!” He hears a voice, a familiar and grounding female voice, dragging him out of his descending panic. 

Natasha is leaning over him, eyes worried, but otherwise completely neutral. Behind her, five SHIELD agents have weapons drawn. 

He was not armed. He was not hurting them. Why were they acting as if he was? 

—

“Agent Barton, reporting sir.” 

He’s in the main room, next to Fury, and it doesn’t take genius level spy intellect or the best vision in all of SHIELD to know that everyone’s stopped their work to watch the interaction. 

“Back to work, or I’ll schedule you all down for the next incident report from Stark!” Maria barks, and quickly, the hustle of the workspace resumes, just enough that they won’t be heard if they talk at a normal volume. 

“Physical examination at 14:00. Psych evaluation at 15:00.” Nick hands him his bow and arrow, and it’s comforting back in Clint’s hands. 

Perhaps even without hearing aids, Clint would be able to hear the change of the room. A few guns were cocked, and tentative glances were shared. 

He can practically hear their words, unsaid, but eyes are a telling human device. 

_We’re giving a killer like him a second chance?_

_Have we succumbed to this amount of desperation?_

_He doesn’t deserve our trust anymore._

Clint knows these are all fair assumptions to make. Fury doesn’t give information out, only on a need to know basis, and these agents don’t know what happened. They only know that a fellow SHIELD agent turned and killed many of their co-workers. 

And it’s not like Clint’s ever reached out to them. He deserves this. He killed Phil. The man who everyone loved, the soul of SHIELD. 

Their hate is not without reason. He hates himself too.

—

The physical examination is easy. It’s only been a week, and Clint, despite common belief, is strong and agile. He’s not Natasha level agile, but he’s not bad for his age, nearly forty and can still take a man down in five seconds flat. 

It’s his psych evaluation that he’s worried about. 

At first it’s okay. 

Yes he feels the guilt. 

“I mean, I don’t remember it, but it’s more than it could happen.” Clint considers how to say this. “I don’t want to be compromised. To be used as a weapon…” 

“That is a fear of many of the agents here, and it’s an understandable one. Under the influence of the scepter, you killed four SHIELD agents. Do you remember anything?” 

Clint’s heard that when killing someone out of your control, the faces haunt you. But for once, he’s glad his eyes have not betrayed another truth. In all honesty, he doesn’t remember anything. 

“No. I remember Loki, I remember the events. But I don’t remember the little parts.” 

“Hmmm.” The lady, Clint’s never met her before, hums, as if she doesn’t believe him. This is why he doesn’t follow protocol and visit them after each mission. They never actually help him. 

“What’s hmmm mean?” 

“I think you’re suppressing it.” 

“Respectfully ma’am, these are my co-workers. I would know if their faces were in my memory. I remember every kill.” 

He did. He sees the body of the dead Chitauri, every fragment of their system is in his mind. He can see the eyes of every mark he’s killed. Not only is he an excellent marksman, the best in the known world, he also has photographic memory and a keen eye for detail. It’s a blessing for a spy, and a curse for a human. 

“You’re suppressing them.” She demands, and he’s _not_. 

Clint’s secure enough to admit that the bodies of his dead allies stay with him, haunting him at night. It’s part of the job, and nobody walks away unscathed. But he does not remember. That is almost scarier than having the memories. 

“I don’t remember it. I don’t remember the dead body of _my handler_ that I apparently saw. I don’t remember any of it!” Clint repeats, getting agitated because it’s the truth. 

A thousand dead eyes stare back, but it’s not those of who recently died. They’re old marks, reminding him of the blood on his hands. 

“I’m not passing you. I don’t think you’re clear for duty.” 

In response, Clint walks out of the room. No use wasting more time.

—

His footsteps lead him to Coulson’s office. It’s empty. SHIELD’s always been good about liquidation, and in a job that’s constantly moving, people coming and going, they can make someone seem as if they were never alive in less than an hour. 

“I’m off the team Phil.” 

“I’m off the fucking team because I can’t remember your dead body.” 

Except, Clint does. He’s been on upwards of thirty combat missions with Phil, he’s seen the man near death more times than he cares to admit. The eyes have been empty before, the body hollow. 

But the one time it matters, the one time Phil won’t be coming back, and Clint can’t even tell him he’ll remember his sacrifice. 

Because he was a puppet, used in a game far greater than the Tesseract, and now, the title of field agent, the only life he’s ever loved, is unreachable. 

—

He’s walking down the corridor when suddenly, there’s a bang. In less than one moment, all the present agents have their guns aimed at him, point blank. 

Huh. So this is where the loyalties lie. 

Not in his favor. 

It turns out, the nearby lab scientists were having too good of a time combining chemicals. Luckily, it’s not something worse, because SHIELD’s still trying to recover from the mess of the Chitauri. 

Clint doesn’t think about how it hurts that they suspected him in a corridor surrounded by labs with impulsive scientists. 

—

“They didn’t clear you?” Natasha’s voice is dangerously low, and Clint brushes her arm, in a vain attempt to calm her down. 

“It’s okay Nat. She just thinks I’m not ready.” 

“I’m going to-“

“Natasha. Don’t.”

There must be something in his voice that causes her to stop, because she’s reaching forward and wrapping into a hug. It’s special, a Natasha hug where she’s practically a spider and wraps her entire body around you and nestles her chin on the top of whoever’s head. They’re very rare. 

It’s comforting, but Clint is still acutely aware that Phil usually joins these hugs from behind, practically sandwiching him when he’s getting low. 

Natasha knows it’s not the same, but she’s doing it regardless. Her nearness reminds Clint that yes, he’s lost a lot, he’s lost one of the only people he truly loved, but he’s still got her. 

And she will help him survive when he doesn't feel he deserves to, when the world he knows crumples into something new, and he’s not ready for it. 

For now, he will learn how to trust himself again, learn to give himself mercy where he deserves it, and hope that others follow suit. His freedom of choice was taken away, but he will not allow his life to be dictated by that one moment. He is an agent, an avenger. He will avenge his imprisonment - the subconscious prejudice against him - for the crimes he did not commit.

**Author's Note:**

> [Crazyinfj’s Tumblr! (aka the writer)](http://crazyinfj.tumblr.com/)
> 
> [Eylle9’s Tumblr! (aka the beta)](https://tumblr.com/blog/eylle9)


End file.
